Psalm 92

It is good to give thanks to the LORD,

to make music to Your name, O Most High,

to proclaim Your love in the morning

and Your truth in the watches of the night,

on the ten-stringed lyre and the lute,

with the murmuring sound of the harp.

Your deeds, O LORD, have made me glad;

for the work of Your hands I shout with joy.

O LORD, how great are Your works!

How deep are your designs!

The foolish man cannot know this

and the fool cannot understand.

The just will flourish like the palm tree

and grow like a Lebanon cedar.

Planted in the house of the LORD

they will flourish in the courts of our God,

still bearing fruit when they are old,

still full of sap, still green,

to proclaim that the LORD is just.

In Him, my rock, there is no wrong.

Not really a big Psalm-reader here, for my spiritual reading needs; I almost always prefer the storytelling of the Gospels and the Pentateuch along with instructional stuff from the letters of Paul and Sirach of the Old Testament.  A few years back I wanted to read through the Psalms for Lent and only got halfway through.  But – being an aspiring writer and ferocious reader, the colorful language of the Good Book often pulls me in.

This morning, reading this Psalm while the car was heating up, I abruptly found myself in the warm sands of Judah, taking these words to heart.  Then, the quick cooling of the desert night, and I found myself looking up at the multitude of stars in the sky, God’s handwriting in code we’ve only relatively recently deciphered, and I forgot my sorry state and was thankful.